


Cantata

by Adorned_in_Onyx



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/M, Familiars, Kinda, Magic, Monsters, Princes & Princesses, Runes, Spells & Enchantments, Witches, all that fun stuff, ill add more later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-02 00:39:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13306728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adorned_in_Onyx/pseuds/Adorned_in_Onyx





	Cantata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venus Blackwood has spent her entire life in secrecy. Her whole family gone, she takes petty jobs from her sworn enemies just to make a quick buck and lives as a recluse in the middle of a forest. After an enemy attack on a public celebration, she rescues the sole heir to the throne who is not thought dead on a whim of kindness. He is thankful he will get to make a glorious comeback at home, but she has other ideas in mind.

“Simul”  
Lavender and sage permeate the air of the glorified small cabin. Embers fly from a fire that lights the entire room. I quickly add aloe vera to her concoction and stir. The sound of horses grows louder nearby. I freeze; the sound grows louder and I prepare to douse the fire and flee, but the sound quickly passes by. I relax and add a pinch of yarrow before pouring the teal liquid into small, round bottles.  
“Dissipati Peribunt”  
The fire fades until it is only dim coals. I take two bottles of the healing potion and slip on my cloak. I start on a narrow dirt path that leads into a clearing on the city's edge. I work through a maze of alleyways and side roads before reaching the main street. I head west to the norther districts, the poorer districts, and my destination: an orphanage run by the local Oeqir church.  
I step in to see kids playing with old, broken toys. A couple noticed me but quickly turn their attention to whatever they were doing beforehand, moving away as I walked through the decrepit building. I head to the Superior’s office and walk in. The Superior is talking with some man who looks like a local townsperson, but they are quickly dismissed and we are left alone.  
“Ah, Mirh, thank you so much for always taking our favors. The children are already so much better. The Sorcerer supplier you have must be in good relations with you,” the Superior says after Venus hands him the potions. He quickly shoves them in a drawer.  
“That’s one way of putting it,” I say plainly.  
“Mirh, if you need anything at all, that we can do within our power of course, you know we are in huge debt to you.”  
“Do you have the payment? We need last month’s too.”  
“Oh yes, yes right here,” the Superior drops a small sack into my hand.  
I lightly toss it before saying, “You know this isn’t what we agreed on.”  
“I know, I know but that’s really all we can give you right now. The Grande has been cutting back donations.”  
“Very well, but the Sorcerer is not going to be happy,” I say through clenched teeth, "Don't be surprised if I can't come back."  
“We are forever in your debt. We will accept whatever favors we can,” the Superior grovels.  
I turn around and make my way out of the sickening building. There is no way in Halja I would ever ask a petty favor from the likes of any Oeqirian. The Superior has tones of money but decides his grooming and housing needs are more important than the basic means to live for helpless children. The orphanage is probably another ruse to make Oeqirism look legit. It’s enough of a bother to make up a name.  
I head out of the northern districts, glancing around to make sure no one is following me. The streets are lined with anti-Sorcerer propaganda, most likely put there by Oeqirians. They depict Sorcerers committing mass genocide and other blasphemous crimes to scare any onlooker away from the idea Sorcerers were ever good. Usually my mother is the ringleader, chopping off heads and standing on mountains of bodies like some glorified warlord. Wanted posters for my brother’s head and celebratory posters of her father’s death cover any other bare spot on the walls. The wretched Oeqirians really know how to pull on those heart strings. "Sorcerers are corrupt and will do anything to get their way." "Sorcerers could be your neighbor or even a close friend, but they do not understand those human relationships." "Sorcerers are no better than pigs." Sorcerers are this, Sorcerers did that. Name any immoral act and they've done it, and worse, guaranteed or your reward back. Sickening. 

I make my way through the forest and return home to my lovely shack. I decide to weave a more powerful cloaking spell into my clothes. No one usually dares to go inside the forest towards my shack, but if cavalry were here earlier, it must mean I'm getting too comfortable. Myths of horrible beasts can only ward off the masses for so long. I've checked and the only horrible beast in this forest is me, unless you count the occasional gagana, but they aren't hostile if you don't give them a reason to be. The last thing that I need are some Grayforce rookies on my tail, eager to get a catch and impress the higher-ups. Butterflies flutter around the room, attracted to my many colorful and potent herbs, as well as my presence as I stitch another butterfly design into my cloak. I always thought butterflies were an annoying, if not an ironic _nota._

"Audeamus mihi" 

I finish the pattern and hand my cloak on an old hook. I change into simpler clothes and eat a loaf of bread I stole from a bread stall I passed by on my way back from the orphanage. I lay on my poor excuse for a bed after tossing the bag in a corner with the rest of my earnings. I breathe in the stench of mold and sigh. At least tomorrow will be a change of pace.

I awake to the sound of drums and various bell-like clanking noises. Festivities have begun. My dreams last night are reason enough to believe that it’s time to relocate. I saw a massive Phoenix swoop over the town with its giant wing, reducing the town to ashes. I quickly gather my stuff into my _pera._ Clothes, shoes, money, potions, various ingredients, precious gems, _lapidibus, miror_ paper, _ductu, os, sanitatem pulveris,_ and my old _ritus:_ a ceremonial dress, hair pieces, and jewelry. I could sell those for a fortune on the black market, but I just can’t seem to let them go. All I leave behind is a piece of _miror_ paper with “ne intraveritis” written on the front, in case Grayforce decides to go snooping.

The city is in full swing for the Feast of Clearwater. Blue, purple, and white flags and other decorations litter the streets, shops, and other structures everywhere. The streets were littered with stars and doves, in accordance with tradition for the parade. I cast a illusion over my eyes to hide the “disgusting” purple,the tell tale sign of a Sorcerer. I cover it with blue tone to be festive, since many at the festival will be doing the same. Soon, the royal court, minus the king and queen, will march through the length of the main street for the Feast of Clearwater, the day that reminds us all of the rise of Oeqirians and the mass prosecution and slaughtering of Sorcerers until they were “extinct.” Oeqirians considered Sorcerers unholy because the performed the work that only their “god” was supposed to do. The Sorcerer Clan was doomed after the former royal family converted to Oeqirism, sending out orders to exterminate every last Sorcerer, including her parents, respected leaders in the Clan: the Blackwoods. Not that any of it matters now, any remaining Sorcerers are too afraid to come out of hiding. The festival and parade would give Venus good cover to slip out of the city unnoticed. 

I walk through the crowd of people, fighting for a chance to get a better look at the parade. Bluefire jugglers and palace guards surrounded the floats that held members of the Royal Council and the ever-so-dreamy Crown Prince Taeyong, the grand finale. Thankfully most of the parade goers were too drunk to notice a girl wondering around and not actually paying attention to the parade. Venus gets a few blocks down main street before she hears a collective scream of teenage girls. The signal that the Crown Prince’s “float” was nearing. I kept my head down and quickened my pace. The parade ends and the crowd dissipates and I become more conspicuous. I focus on being quick without completely becoming a bulldozer. It suddenly gets slightly darker. I stop and look at the sun. A noticeable black spot has come into view. No one else notices, of course, because the Crown Prince is feet from the crowd now. The black spot gets bigger.

A _nigrum terrent._

 _Shit._

I quickly draw my staff and encircle myself in a Protection rune. I look over at the parade and wonder if the royal guards have noticed the attack, but the parade is going as normal. I gaze over the crowd, wild with excitement and oblivious to their approaching demise. I see a stray dog and call for it; at least one innocent being should survive. As soon as it is inside the rune circle, I look around at the city one last time. The Crown Prince and I make eye contact. Distress appears on his face, so worry must be showing on mine. I glance toward the nigrum terrent, now almost blocking out the entire sun, casting a noticeable shadow an the parade. I concentrate and slam the butt of my staff onto the ground. 

“Praesidio”

I crouch around the stray and close my eyes.

When I open my eyes, I stand in a wasteland. The city once alive with festivities and vigor is now barely a shadow of its former self. Every building for miles is either on fire or has been reduced to rubble. Bodies are littered all throughout the street, still proudly showing their kingdom's colors, how melancholy. I stand up and the stray dog runs away. I step out of the runes and asses the situation. I am alive. I am not injured. Easy enough. If only I were not used to such a sight, my reaction would be more "human-like." This is not my first account of calamity. I set off in the direction I was headed before the _nigrum terrent_ hit, but stop when I see something glint in the sunlight, shining on the scene as if nothing happened. The Royal Crest. Attached to it is a motionless Crown Prince, his lower half crushed by an overturn sewer pipe. I walk over to him and reach for the crest, but he groans softly and shifts. He’s alive. Interesting. I manipulate the large metal pipe off of him and use a levitation spell to suspend him in the air, carrying him would be too much effort. 

With an excellent idea and unconscious royalty in tow, I head back towards my shack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey, hey, this is the first time I'm doing this and I will not update frequently. :)


End file.
